


Tales Soaked in Red

by Lady-S (Aka_Mel)



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Adventure, F/M, High Fantasy, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aka_Mel/pseuds/Lady-S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryun has found himself caught in the middle of an assassin's gaze and he has brought trouble to his entire party. What is he to do when all his military tactics and training is of no use with this killer. Even more so, with the Lusitanians on their tail as they make their way back from success in Sindhura only to run into trouble on their way to Peshawar Citadel.</p><p>Shana only wishes to be able to stay in the only home she's ever had with the only family she's ever cared about. Yet, what will she do when both are taken from her. She has to fight back.</p><p>Arslan wishes for peace and prosperity in the Kingdom of Pars. Yet, the future only holds more hardship for the little prince. The Red Kingdom will come and little will get in their way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assassin with Red Eyes

The members from the camp of Arslan had traveled towards Peshawar after their victories in Sindhura. They stopped in the next forest they found, having only traversed half the distance back to Peshawar Citadel. Most had wanted the opportunity to rest, while others....

They heard news from the locals of a small platoon of Lusitanian soldiers who kept guard in the next village ahead. They should have turned around, gone along the hills and forests even if they were disadvantageous, but at least they would steer clear of the enemy and needless conflict. That was what they all agreed upon. All except one.

"Narsus!" Daryun shouted towards the front, while the strong man kept guard next to his charge. "There's no reason to needlessly endanger His Highness by bringing him along."

Narsus, the infamous tactician of Pars, had suggested gathering information about the Lusitanians while on their return to Peshawar. They still had quite a while to go from their return trip from Sindhura and this was a perfect opportunity for them.

"On the contrary," Narsus started, smug where he sat on his trotting horse at the front, "This would be a good lesson for His Highness in reconnaissance."

In fact, he had brought the young prince with them as a distraction. The poor sovereign's mind wavered over his responsibility to his people, about whether he had the right to take that responsibility. As much as Prince Arslan seemed to brush the truth and continued presenting himself as royalty it still weighed upon him. The speculation that he was probably not of either King Andragoras' nor the Queen Tahamine's blood line. A false heir.

"Why would His Highness ever need to learn about reconnaissance?" Daryun countered. "The dangers are too many. What if anyone were to recognize him?" The young prince was still learning. He had much more to go before he was ready for real contact with the enemy. He didn't like taking the risk. He and Narsus have been enough in the past for spying.

Narsus sniffed, unimpressed, and Arslan was used to the two arguing by now. He was also used to allowing Daryun his thoughts, free from any reprimands on his part because he trusted Daryun. Even if he felt overprotected, but that was what made Daryun so reliable. So instead, Arslan laughed weakly in the open spaces in conversation. He knew he sounded as uncomfortable as he felt.

"I highly doubt that," Narsus chortled. "He's come face to face with Lusitanian soldiers who had no idea his rank even with all his finery. He will be more so unrecognizable in those drab clothes. And think, Daryun, His Highness has already been separated from your side once before."

Daryun made a pained noise, as if just the memory were enough to worry him all over again. Yet, he stayed wordlessly silent to hear Narsus out. The man may sound crazy at times, and his art was something to be desired, but he had always done what was right with the most tactical advantages for them. The most brilliant strategist all of Pars ever saw. Daryun could at least hear the man out.

"He was lucky enough to have been with Elam and even Gieve, despite the traveling bard's wavering loyalty. What do you think would have happened if Prince Arslan had been on his own?"

Daryun's frown deepened, not out of anger of his old friend's comment, but because of the truth from them. Prince Arslan, despite being old enough to have participated in his first Maiden Battle at 14, was not yet ready for any of this. Not the same way as Daryun, Narsus, or even Elam, who, as a slave, was more combat ready being at Narsus side and even more so as a servant when he was freed from bondage. Arslan was barely ready to fight enemies on his own in the battlefield, let alone traverse on his own while avoiding enemy soldiers stationed at many cities in the Kingdom of Pars. Reconnaissance, or at least stealth, would be helpful to their prince. As much as Daryun wanted to say he would always be by Prince Arslan's side, he would already have broken his word at least once by now. He had no room to argue with Narsus.

Arslan noticed the despondent look on Daryun's face and couldn't bear to see him suffer because of him. "It's fine! Daryun, really," he tried to reassure, with little success. "Narsus has a point, and learning would not be such a bad idea. Besides, I _do_ have you and Narsus by me now, nothing will happen. Do not worry so."

"Your Highness..." Daryun said slowly, as if soaking in every word of his prince even if they were merely reassurances of little help, he took them to heart. His Prince was so kindhearted. A weakness to many, but to his most faithful retainer it was the reason he stood by his Prince when news of Ecbatana's fall had reached and when Hermes, the son of the previous king vying for the throne, had begun his controversial campaign. "You need not worry for me, Your Highness. I, Daryun, will protect you and stay by your side. I promise this on my title."

The little prince smiled at his faithful retainer and told him he need not be so serious on such a small reconnaissance mission. Narsus even smiled truly, under his smug smirk. They would all be fine.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Daryun couldn't remember drinking so much. Didn't even remember taking more than one glass, at most two. In fact, he barely could remember much at the moment. What was he doing? Besides drinking.

Daryun, Narsus, and the Prince Arslan had successfully entered the village, it was not walled or encircled by any enemy camps since the village was more open to the elements than most others. It was a rare spot of oasis where the villagers flourished under the unique might of the land. Originally guarded by Parsian soldiers, soon replaced or killed, the rumors were varying, by the Lusitanian soldiers once they took over. The men stationed were few in numbers, the rest taken elsewhere for war. Only enough to keep the village under King Innocentis' control and supply the capital with its natural resources. Yet, those small numbers were enough when Lusitanian soldiers ruled almost all of Pars.

The soldiers were known for frequenting the pub at night and the brothel even later. They were more distracted, more _intoxicated_ while residing in the brothel. The girls were good at pouring the drinks and distracting the men, they were unruly but it kept them happy for the most part. It also kept most of the girls safe from the foreign brutes, who praised a just god, Yaldaboth, but took more than any merciless mercenary they had ever seen pass these parts.

Narsus quickly decided on the brothel's advantages and thought up ways to steal themselves inside.

Daryun was quick to protest, not for his own sake but mainly for the sake of his young Prince

" _Narsus_ ," Daryun said tightly. He gripped the man's shoulder until he knew it would hurt then pinched some more. "The tavern is perfectly fine. There is no need to subject His Highness to such a base establishment."

"Well, Daryun, that is only the opinion of yours. His Highness may even have fun. Right?" he directed that last word at Arslan, who jumped and made a series of distressed noises at the thought of the idea.

The poor fourteen year old had never been near women in such a manner. As a prince, he had never even stepped inside a brothel let alone partaken. Narsus could be quite brash when he wanted to be. _What was he supposed to do once inside, anyway?_

"I...I--Well, this wouldn't be--I mean..." he stuttered.

"Narsus!" Daryun scolded.

Narsus pushed off Daryun's hand as easily as if he had been a child. Unfazed by the grip, he said, "Tongues loosen under the influence of alcohol, which is most certainly at the pub, but _tongues wag_ at the sight of women and skin," Narsus explained. "Besides, I don't trust you too close to His Majesty. I understand you're overprotective nature," he continued, and gazed at the sight of his still stuttering Prince, before reclaiming Daryun's attention. "But His Majesty will learn nothing if you coddle him as you do."

"Cod--" Daryun couldn't even finish the word he was so offended.

Surprisingly, the prince hadn't gone red with blush like any other prudish individual. It probably came from years of etiquette training and face control practice he learned while living in the palace. As much as he was a bit nervous at the thought he heard what Narsus was saying, and had to agree...for the most part.

"Let's not fight about this, please," Arslan pleaded, waving his hands between the two to distract them. He sighed and tried to establish order. Narsus was always impressed with how the little prince was able to commandeer command such as he did. "We can all go to the brothel." Before Daryun could disagree he continued, pushing through. "I agree with Narsus, the men will be more distracted and as long as we have a table to ourselves they will never notice us and simply talk around the women for us to eavesdrop on."

"But...Your Highness...you do realize we must _flirt_ with the girls if we are to avoid suspicion, do _unseemly things_ in order to blend in?" Daryun said tightly, he could not believe what his Prince was saying. His poor naive prince. Did he think they could just simply sit and drink and all would be well?

"Ah! For heaven's sake!" Narsus voiced. "You and I," he pointed at himself and Daryun with a natural flourish that came with his pride, "Will stay down with the soldiers and listen in on them. While His Highness can stay in a side room and order drinks and food--a perfect opportunity to ask his server what the men are doing. Are you satisfied now?"

Daryun was still reluctant but able to comply with the idea. Besides," But I should stay with His Highness, even in a closed room."

"I'll stay with him, you eavesdrop on the soldiers." Daryun would probably do all the talking and keep Arslan from doing much of anything.

He was about to make a biting comment against Narsus, but was stopped by Arslan's kind eyes worried about him, "I'm sorry, Daryun," Arslan said. "I don't mean to cause so much trouble...asking to come with you and Narsus. I realize that puts me at more risk and worries you, but I do not want to stand idly by when all my men put their lives on the line."

He couldn't argue with those soft eyes, doe-like and so straightforward. He wanted to. His jaw was raring to go but he just let released it and sighed. He put his palm against his forehead and breathed, "I just wish even Jaswant were here, protecting you."

"He would have stuck out too much, being Sindhurian. We discussed this already."

That was the last Daryun could remember about Narsus and Arslan. He recalled the men talking about their forces moving towards Peshawar and...some other location. Zabu? He had a hard time remembering.

He stood against a small table, his hand heavy on it's surface to hold himself fully upright. He tried to walk forward but, not his vision, his brain seemed to move. He knew there was nothing wrong with his eyesight, everything appeared clear, but his head was like a fog. Nothing seemed solid or real, and more than once the floor came dangerously close to his face. He would always catch himself, years of training. Yet, the space between the floor and his face was getting closer with each stumble.

The soldier's paid no mind. Narsus was right. Wine and women were the downfall of all men. Wealth would be the only thing that could equal or trump those odds.

The party was lively. The drinks flowed like someone's birthday and the girls seemed never to end. The bareness of flesh more dense in the sea of people than armor. Not because of nakedness, but because the girls were all dressed to the barest of tunics and the thinnest of skirts. They were covered head to toe but it was debatable whether those clothes did much to cover anything. Daryun couldn't avoid noticing the rough pulls and forceful gestures of the soldiers. He wanted to pull a few men off the girls, who clearly were not enjoying the attention, but he could not cause a fight, not with His Highness in a room farther in. Daryun had done well to avoid the show as a whole, his eye for battle more keen than any vice he might, or might not even, have. Though, there was one girl he had to notice--she must be a girl for her small stature and petite frame, not much older than Arslan--was constantly ready to help him. Even answered a few of his questions.

She was very attentive to Daryun. Although, to be fair, she was attentive to quite a few men, just like all the girls were. But she was the one to always make sure _his_ cup was topped. It was one reason Daryun had lost count of his drinks, since they never seemed to lessen no matter how much he drank, and the girls kept pressuring him to drink, taking a sip was the only way to get rid of them. Although there was another reason, that being from the _extra things_ she had in her specific vase.

When she came by a third time Daryun noticed the young girl was small, yes, but not because of her age.

The attentive girl stood tiny next to others, but she was merely fifteen, not far from sixteen. Most girls her age were already women, but she appeared so young and small despite that. She had beautiful curves, yes, the sheer garments would tell, but she was mostly thin arms, tall legs, and underdeveloped femininity. She was different from all the other girls, but it was hard to place why. She had dark hair, most Parsians did. Her skin was pale, nothing unusual. Maybe it was her eyes.

Those beautifully piercing eyes, as sharp in color as the red of the ribbon in her hair, as sharp as Prince Arslan himself.

By the fifth visit...She was cute. Every time she tugged on her chalvar trousers or tripped over her dangling shawl. Even Daryun had to notice and admit to himself, but she was still so young. Although, what was young when boys became men at 14 and fought their first battle by then. This has been how it always has been in Pars, but it seemed less distressing to a 14 year old Daryun who was larger than most others his age. Prince Arslan and this small girl did not look ready for the world.

Dayun couldn't have known, but this young girl was as skilled as any 14 year old boy, as skilled as any man in fact. And she had a plan.

Although, if she were to be honest with herself, it was a half baked one. A really bad, poking a bear with a stick made of bees bad. She didn't know who her target was when she started and she _always_ had a target. She bit her nails at the anxiety inducing worry and only stopped when she noticed she bit so far down that she nibbled on skin. She was so vexed she didn't even realize she was self-cannibalizing for quite a few bites. Even through the nerves she noticed her plan was working. But then she worried about what would happen once she past a certain point. How dangerous it would be to open herself like that, but she had no choice. She had to do this. She had to do this for her sake and her only family. He would come to understand with time, she told herself.

She saw plenty succumbing to her special blend draught. The wine mixed with acemiat berries for clouding of the mind and orpheneus leaves for drowsiness of the body. Most were still acting crazed and unruly, intoxication their excuse she frowned, but some where unable to see clear or stand. The latter was obvious but the vision problems were noticeable from their wavering eyes, not even able to focus on a single girl. She smiled at their troubled looks. But it was a weak blend, she was too scared to do more, but it was clearly working. Which was enough for her. She worried, though, that a few of the men she had selectively chosen were chosen unwisely. She never had to pick victims, someone else always had done it for her and she just followed orders. But when the large man with the beautiful face started to react she sighed a breath of relief. _Thank you, girls_ , _for egging him on,_ she thought. That was when she started making sure he was always topped off.

She had not anticipated him being effected so fast compared to the rest, or even expecting to choose him. She thought herself a bit vain to choose such a handsome man but consoled it was for the best. Although, she was not sad to see him collapse to his knees. His weight made a noticeable thump when his knee hit wood so it looked less odd when she noticed him from afar. A few of the girls looked over and gasped, but none reacted faster than her. She half-jogged over to Daryun and knelt by him to ask him what was wrong.

"Sir? Are you alright?" she feigned concern. "Do you need more drink?" she asked, lifting the container close to him.

He flinched away from the wine. The smell was suddenly noxious to him. Daryun felt his stomach would turn just by a small whiff of it. He shook his head to say _no_ but that only made things worse. His whole world was swirling despite it never moving. He wondered what was wrong with him. Then wondered what was soft under his touch. He wasn't bashful about the thought, which should have been another warning signal for him, but he ignored it.

"Master, sir?" she said politely and rehearsed. She heard the other girls call the other patrons 'master' so she mimicked that approach with him. "Maybe I should find you a room?"

"I'm fine," he tried to say harshly, but it had less bite than it normally did. Although, none of the girls within earshot knew that. Some flinched at his voice, but not the girl closest tending to him.

"Oh, my good Master, you clearly are not. If nothing else, please rest off your intoxication. Sha--" she stopped herself short of saying her name, awkwardly trying to speak after that near miss. Everyone knew her name too well. "Let me help you." Without much effort or groan, she was able to stand the man upright on his feet once she slid her shoulders into his arm. _Oh boy! He's as heavy as that ox refusing to move forward_. He groaned a bit at the sudden movement but walking somehow kept the sickness at bay. The girls closest to her gasped; surprised she was able to lift him up so easily and then continue up the stairs. She did not struggle. Nor waver. Or even shake under him. Just a few more steps...and it would all be done. Her mission was almost complete.

Down below, two brothel girls whispered to each other and waved the rest of the girls do their jobs. They nodded at each other then one of the two stepped lively towards the stairs, the beautifully toned man and the serving girl were already half way up the steps.

"Honey, dear? Do you need any help?" she asked.

Her pace did not slow and she barely mumbled down quickly, "No, no, I got him."

She instantly perked, confused. The long time dancing girl, who had worked for two years, did not recognize the voice of _that_ girl. There were a number of newcomers from the neighboring villages in order to have enough for the soldiers constantly here.

But this girl did not belong. The dancer could tell, she was not a serving girl. A servant, most certainly, by how well she performed all of the night, but not one of _their_ girls. She shrugged her shoulders and carried on with others things, dismissive of the reasons for her being here. The other girls realized this when they saw her take away the man, but they said nothing, too busy with their own men and too uncaring about her. They doubted the man would protest much anyway.

They had made it up the steps and Daryun was slowly growing more wary of his situation. This night had to end. He tried to step away from the girl, still unaware of her unusual strength, but ended up tripping over his own feet. He almost slipped and fell but the girl caught him.

"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, sir! You've had quite a lot to drink it seems," she laughed off.

 _'She's pretty strong...'_ Daryun thought absently, the haze growing stronger, affecting his vision now. _'What was I doing?_ '

"Don't worry, sir, everything's going to be alright, it'll be fine..." the girl said softly, less for Daryun's sake and more for her own. She had found her target and through all her hard work he was now helpless to stop her. She bit her lip.


	2. The Daughters of Pars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is willing to leave the whole mess behind them, but Arslan would not be called "The Liberator" in his future if he did not stay to right wrongs and free those he found disadvantaged now.

Daryun heard footsteps. Even if he wasn't trained he would have noticed it was odd considering he should be hiding in a forest with the others and protecting His Highness. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself upright like a bolt and blanched frozen.

There were no enemies in the room. The footsteps passed outside. There was no natural light but he didn't need it to know.

His body tensed until his muscles felt ready to split at the sound of a soft, _feminine_ moaning. It was not sexual, but to Daryun at that moment, feeling an unnatural breeze well...everywhere, it could have been the most lustful and senseless sound in the world for all he could comprehend at that moment.

The only place the breeze did not catch on his skin was where the sheets lay and where a warm, _soft and plush_ body was pressed against him. He did not move but his eyes shot a look down, horror stricken on his face by the tight, stiff lines all over his features when he saw a girl, not much older than Arslan, next to him. What made the whole situation even worse was the way she held her arms close against her chest, her knuckles pressed against moist lips and making dimple-like impressions on her countenance. She was adorably cute--and utterly naked. He could feel that against his leg. He was too frozen to move away in modesty. Who would get the sheets if he jumped out? For him, he'd want her to _stay_ covered, but he did not want to be bare naked if he woke her by moving. There was no good option. Daryun always had options...his strength assured that.

But not here.

_When. How._ Why?! he screamed over and over again in his head. _Who is this girl? Why is she in bed with me? I don't recall taking anyone! Why am_ I _naked in the first place?! This is wrong...how could I have been so unfocused...? Where is Narsus? Prince Arslan?_

Why am I naked??!!

Questions filtered through his head like a never-ending scream. He tried to recall what had happened last night but the fog wasn't clearing.

But he was a man of battle, a man of logic and reasoning. He had to approach a first step before he could do any others.

So...he had to wake the girl. Question her about the previous night...and inquire where his clothes were.

He sounded ridiculous even inside his own head. He blushed and it showed even past his deep tan. His embarrassment stemmed not from what he imagined happened. Daryun was not one to shy from brothels, he visited them regularly enough when he found himself with free time. Furthermore, he was no stranger to the flesh of women, young or not. But this one...

He looked once more at her and avoided looking further south. _She looked too young._ Luckily, her childish huddle against herself kept her upper body covered. So as long as he didn't look lower...

She was actually quite innocent like--NO. NO.

He reprimanded himself and begged his prince for forgiveness even though he was not here nor knew of his circumstances, but he thought it might help spiritually. So, he began to creakily unwind himself, starting with his arm. He slowly but surely moved it, albeit stiffly, but towards her so that he may waken her. Despite feeling how wrong it would be to disturb such a porcelain doll--NO.

A knock came at the door. Her eyes did not flutter open as he anticipated and that snapped him, and his lower manhood, back to his senses. Blood already receding northward, ironically, not by the disturbance, which would normally shock him in his current situation, but because of the attentiveness in her gaze as soon as she awoke. Like a tiger ready to fight. That was not the eyes of an innocent maid, or even of a serving girl, or of any girl he had ever known.

"Morning! I'm just checking to see if you need--" the servant opened the door without any prompt and just as quickly screamed loudly at the sight of what she saw with a streak of red across her face. While Daryun's face blanched, going paler than his normally tan skin ever saw. "I'm so sorry--I!" she screamed.

But she had no time to finish. The girl in bed had already sat up and covered herself with hunched shoulders. Her face obscured by lengths of long raven hair. It had been plaited down her back the night before, Daryun remembered, now curled through the night. Daryun didn't even have time to fully take in her features though before she shot up out of the bed, crouching on the floor like an animal, ready to bolt. He was still reeling when she ran out of the room. She ran without one mis-step, even with the long sheets. He only had time to make a half caught noise before the screams and crashes started outside.

He felt a breeze everywhere now.

The girl who had just warmed his bed was clearly making a mess as she left. She lifted her head and her sharp eyes caught the entrance, or, for her, the exit. She bumped into anyone within range and made sure everyone saw her leave. She made no effort to hide her unique features. Everyone saw the raven hair, the pale skin, and almond oval eyes with the piercing red in them. Everyone knew to scream for Shana's name when she ran by.

"Oh gods, was that _Shana_?" the serving girl at Daryun's door said. "This will _not_ go over kindly at her home when he finds out she was here, let alone with a man in a room at night--" she said, slowly turning her head facing back into the room. She cut herself off and bit her lips between her teeth to keep from being rude as a crude smile crept the corners of her lips. She eyed the man on the bed with humor but also by how impressed she was...by....

Daryun stared past her. Struggling with whether to be in shock or impressed by the silky smooth movements of that girl's escape. No motion was wasted and she flowed past the serving girl blocking the door like silk passing through a breeze. And those crimson orbs....

Apparently, though, he decided over shock with the brilliance of his reply, "Huh?"

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

She did it! She had done it! It was _done_! Now he would have no choice. She would have to stay. Where else would she go after this. She laughed at the absurdity of her success, a small, forceful push of air as she clutched tight to the sheets. She had already donned half her costume as she ran, having grabbed the discarded garments when she had crouched on the ground.

This had all gone so perfectly.

All except...for the shame. She felt red in the cheeks and she knew she could not blame her run. She was used to physical activity, this was nothing. Her gasps tapered off as she remembered that man. He was unnaturally smooth underneath and not a wasted area of muscle on him. Every inch had been worked on. And those thighs!

She felt ashamed to have coerced such a kind man. He had even tried to tell her to leave him as she helped him undressed and that he could care for himself. Even though she had made sure he couldn't, but that did not stop him from trying. He seemed used to taking care of others rather than himself. Like her. She had been lucky it was him. Not some brutish Lusitanian.

As much as she felt sorry for him. She couldn't spare the feelings as she hardened her final resolve. It was time to go home and face her punishment.

News traveled faster than she could run through Jahanna.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

"There you are! Daryun!" Narsus shouted, only after he slammed open the creaking wooden door of Daryun's room.

Daryun knew that Narsus had already known he was in here before opening the door. Probably by some serving girl. Daryun had no impressionable features but his figure and stature alone drew attention. Especially from all the girls who noticed his arms last night and the ruckus from this morning.

"Daryun!" Narsus yelled again, after no initial response.

"I heard you Narsus." Daryun was still growing accustomed to bright light and now he was starting to relearn how to be around Narsus and his larger than life personality.

"Hmph!" he snorted. "I can't believe you! The prince could have been in danger for all you knew--!"

"Is he...?" Daryun worried. A moment where his self-deprecation was suppressed.

"He's perfectly fine!" Daryun sighed in relief at that. "After we learned all we could I took him back to the camp--"

"What did you learn?" Daryun looked up at him then.

"There was a battle at Zabul Castle, it's where the troops stationed here are, and where Silvermask is now, and they're next stop is for Peshawar!" he summarized angrily.

"Silvermask? Headed towards the fortress now?"

"We don't know that. Just that they have orders to march for Peshawar."

"Then we can't waste time--"

"Don't dodge the conversation! We have time, Zabul is no where near Peshawar. I searched for you until it grew too dark. But what a thing Daryun! You've outsmarted even me! I never would have guessed you still here. I theorized a lot of things for your absence: followed by Lusitanians, dealing with a loose end, too many girls attending you for you to focus, hell! Even Silvermask attacking you here for all I knew! But to act so irresponsibly. Not only staying out all night, but to be smitten with flesh when war is on the brink! _You_ , Daryun, the youngest man to receive the highest title of Marzban by deeds alone!"

"I was demoted from Marzban," Daryun corrected unhelpfully. He had insulted the King and was stripped of his Marzban title and mercifully left him a Mardan.

Narsus made an unimpressed and offended noise before saying, "Quibble nonsense all you like. Elam and Jaswant spent the morning searching for you. I think they were too embarrassed to pull you out themselves when they learned. They reported back to me _to come get you_. Thank you very much!"

"I see..." Daryun looked away.

"Daryun! I know I always say you have no taste in art or culture, but I have always admired your resolve and steadfastness. You have always been morally upright even to my displeasure at times. So what has happened to you? Do you have _nothing_ to say in your defense. Or at least to me before you scurry your way back to your Prince?!"

He groaned then. Daryun hadn't thought about how he would explain his absence to Arslan. He could lie whenever necessary to keep his prince safe, but he had never been good at denying a straight answer to Prince Arslan. Besides the speculation about his family parentage, he had never needed to lie to Arslan. And he would not start now. He never lied about what he speculated about his right on the throne but he had never discussed it with Arslan. There would be no avoiding this subject though. So he decided on honesty when the time came, because he knew he could not sink any lower than last night. Being distracted in the middle of a mission. Taking advantage of a young girl like that on top of it all. She looked even younger than Alfreed, a girl of sixteen smitten with Narsus, but Narsus would never take advantage of the Zott Clan girl. And he had thought the same of himself if the situation ever arose, he never thought it would. With the war going on especially.

What would the girl's parents think?

Should he go and explain?

"Daryun! Say something!" Narsus demanded.

No time. "I have no excuse," Daryun tried. "I never intended to drink so much, but I did, and I have taken flesh at the risk of His Highness. I'll explain everything to him myself." He stood then, tall but not straight. He had dressed long ago and only lingered to contemplate his actions the night before but it was all black. Like the girl's hair. Silky smooth.

Daryun's eyes widened at the involuntary thought and he smacked himself with his hands on the cheeks to snap him out of that thought. He looked straight ahead, eyes sharp like a golden hawk's, and marched past his old friend.

"Da...Daryun...?"

Narsus had known Daryun a long time, even into his exile they had kept in touch sparingly. He was his only real, amiable friend, despite their differences in taste. Daryun would crack a comment about his art and Narsus would snap back with a snide remark about his intellect. Daryun was smart but pretty muscle-bound and always focused on the prince. So he was surprised when he saw his friend look past him and even stranger still when, though all he wanted to ask about was Arslan, he was clearly focused on something else. Another issue at hand.

He had an idea considering the circumstances but he could not be sure. Just play his cards.

As he followed far behind, he took one of the serving girls to the side and asked her who the girl with Daryun had been. ...Then proceeded to ask her to cease fawning over him. He got enough of that from Alfreed.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Back in the forests, in the privacy of shade and trees, the campaigners of Arslan listened to Daryun's confession.

"Is that what happened?" Arslan replied after all was said, surprised, especially these words being spoken by Daryun, but more in shock such a series of events could have happened while they were close. He had promised everything would be fine to Daryun. "Such a thing..." he breathed.

No one guessed it would be Daryun that would find trouble. Especially the kind Gieve was more prone to at any free opportunity. The smaller man had a new appreciation for the mother hen, stick-in-the-mud Daryun, truly. While all others, except the ever cool priestess Farangis, were all in shock at the admission from the faithful warrior.

"I cannot offer enough in way of apologies, Your Highness. I have done such wrong and this fool, Daryun, has left your side despite all my vows. I can only beg for your forgiveness...knowing that I will devote myself all to you, Prince Arslan."

Narsus sighed and tapped his forehead with outstretched fingers. Elam could only frown sadly as he looked upon the scene. As much as he had little to do with Lord Daryun, he was a friend to his master and a fine warrior devoted to a man he had come to respect. As a servant himself, he knew the shame Daryun felt by his choice and the guilt of disgrace he had brought upon his own master by his misstep. Jaswant looked ever hardy, ready to obey his prince master at any given moment. He waited for Arslan's words.

They all did.

"Daryun, we all travel hard roads and I cannot fault you anymore than I could fault Gieve for his indiscretions."

Gieve smiled at the comment without a sign he felt any insult.

"But he is not a Mardan," Daryun argued, self-deprecating. "Nor a servant of His Highness, you cannot see me in the same light."

"True, but you have always been steadfast and I heard no faults of your character with the woman herself. Even if she is not here to say towards your case, Narsus has made it clear that no transgressions uncalled for were provoked. You did not force yourself, correct?"

"I...I cannot be certain," he hesitated, "My memory..."

"Oh, come on, it was one night and at a brothel. She was clearly not displeased with the exchange if she stayed the morning. Not as if you lied to a Lady-in-Waiting and promised her sweet nothing to sneak under her skirts." He said that with enough details that a few in the group looked at him with suspicion. None would be surprised if any of that were true. "Besides, with Lord Daryun's personality it is clear you were drugged. She was probably the one to do it. So you are none at fault."

"But she ran didn't she?" Alfreed commented with little tact. The words enough made Daryun flinch. "Why would she run if she were happy about it?"

"Hmmm, the women did notice some of the men acting oddly last night but nothing unusual." Narsus added, "One of the serving girls said she didn't recognize the girl who ran out of Daryun's room. But was told by the others who worked there the longest, knew her as _Shana_. Just a girl from the village, no affiliation with the brothels. Though, she may have fled not having wanted to be caught, if she were still an innocent and her father caught word."

Daryun twitched even more at the thought of that supposition. He bowed his head lower and hid his embarrassment. She was young enough. She could have been someone's daughter still.

"As touching as this all is, I think it's time to forgive and forget. There's nothing we can do about the girl and we have a Keep to get to before another nightfall," Gieve cut in.

"No, wait," Arslan said.

Everyone looked up at the young prince. He held his head high once he came to a conclusion and his eyes glowed with the determination that had won over Narsus and all their other companions. The will of leadership.

"We can't leave the situation as such." Everyone's eyes blinked, unsure where the prince was going. Gieve had a sinking feeling about what the prince was going to say. "That poor girl will receive punishment if we say nothing. We can't leave her with a broken father."

"You mean a beating, and a broken finger most likely," Gieve said ominously.

Farangis, silent throughout and un-judging, finally spoke after a sigh. "As much as it is common place for ill-repute girls I cannot say I favor that type of thinking. Where are the men who are unfaithful to wives and sisters, and who take without any consequence of the wrongdoing themselves." She looked to Daryun when she said, "I cannot make you, Lord Daryun, take responsibility for your actions. I too wish to support Prince Arslan and drive out these heathens as soon as possible, but I do urge you do something for this case. If nothing else, I can advise the poor girl on the ways of our Temple of Mithra to change her future, but at your behest."

Daryun looked up at the priestess with a new eye. She had been a stable but cold comfort during their journey, solemnly praying for their fallen, but killing with equal skill on the battlefield in service to the prince. He could not ask so much of her concerning his own mistake, and had to look away when her paleness and ebony strands began to remind him too much of the girl in question. Even if Farangis was a _woman,_ the physical traits were enough to start him, and he had to stare down.

"Why can't that be the case?" Arslan spoke. "That Daryun take part of the burden. We cannot offer them much now but if we offer them promises of rewards for their services--" Daryun flinched at that-- "once the Lusitanians are driven out and we are back at Ecbatana."

Daryun raised himself at that, "Your Highness! I cannot ask you to take on my responsibility. I have done the wrong and I should be the one to offer something."

Arslan looked towards Daryun with respect and reservation, but after his admission he smiled to relax his retainer. Daryun was confused by the gesture but nodded humbly thinking he had accepted his words.

"Daryun, you are my retainer, my warrior. A lord is responsible for his men just as much as you are for the men you command. I feel no guilt or reluctance doing something for you. You have saved my life many a times."

"Your Highness..." He wanted to add a but, or something more, but Arslan's mind was made up. They all knew this, and knew better than to change the little lord's mind. Daryun could then only affirm and follow his lead as they returned back to the village. If nothing else, passing through the village was the most direct way past the forest towards Peshawar. Everyone garbed in hoods and coverings. _They were merely making a_ small _stop_ , was what Daryun thought.


	3. Bitter Unions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryun imagines the meeting will be a mere enter and exit. Yet, when Shana's guardian recognizes the scattering of men and a kahina (priestess) for who they are their troubles only begin to start mounting.
> 
> Shana just wants them gone. They've ruined everything.

"Excuse me," Farangis said to a man she found hunched over, making his way home. "You wouldn't happen to know where a girl named Shana lives?"

"Hm? Shana? Erutham's niece?"

"I suppose so," she answered.

"What do you want with Shana? Erutham's the man everyone wants to see, and you won't get to Shana without his approval. He is the richest man in the village."

"That is fine. We shall get his approval. Where does he live?"

"Hmmm?" he hummed. Then, lifted one drooping eyebrow and the whole of his eyes could be seen--staring at Daryun. "Oooh!" he said with recognition. "You, big fella must be the one they caught Shana with."

Daryun chocked where he stood behind Farangis and couldn't feel like he could sink much lower than a stranger recognizing him for his illicit deed.

"Yeah, my grandson works at the brothel. Says a big guy from outside the village came and got so drunk Shana had to take him up. Haha. He knew instantly it was Shana when he saw her lift you on your feet like nothing. Strong girl, that one, always working for her uncle."

"Might I ask where her father is? Why does she stay with her uncle?" Daryun thought to ask. He was half surprised when he said Erutham's _niece_. He was expecting to have to deal with an enraged father, or mother even.

"Ahh, the poor girl. Lost her mother at the birth and her father a few years after from raiders. She was lucky he moved back in with his brother, Erutham, otherwise who knows what could have happened to her. Strict he is but he took care of her well, that uncle of hers..."

"Ah..." was all Daryun could say. It was more fresh for him but he understood the sympathies. He would have to add condolences on top of his apology.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The directions were simple in a village a fourth the size of the great city of Ecbatana. The difficulty came when they arrived at the residence.

"You foolish girl!" They heard a crash, ceramic breaking, and a number of heavy objects falling. The noise reached to the edge of the large farm, the home of Erutham and his niece Shana. The area was lively and fresh with vegetation but devoid of anyone. Just the noise from inside. He thought it odd the richest man in the village could not be bothered with hiring guards for his home.

Elam and Alfreed were the ones left to guard the horses and supplies. Daryun and Farangis had collected everyone else and they had made their way to the girl, Shana's home. They rushed when they heard the noise. After months of travel, everyone in the group was accustomed to a run, but Daryun felt more incentive. He rushed faster than his companions, his strength above all others, but his concern deeper than those of Gieve and Jaswant who's nimble bodies were of greater speed.

Daryun was first to enter. He scoured the rooms as they came, the noise growing louder with each step.

"What did you think you were doing?! Why go there and _sell_ yourself like a common whore! Oh wait, you are a whore now!"

Until he entered the kitchens. Where he found a mess of broken ceramics and wooden crates strewn on the ground as if toppled over. A young woman sat, slumped on a side like a damsel, next to the greater convergence of the debris. A man stood threateningly over her with a red flushing even his dark skin.

"What did it matter?" she answered back, with little bite but there was no shake in her voice either. "You were going to sell me away anyway," she said back, growing bolder, but with a sigh as if this was an old argument.

The same girl from last night. Dressed differently and hair braided back neatly peeked out from an indigo-brown head shawl, but still the same raven hair, and pale skin which barely shown through the blue of her entari robes. She appeared unharmed, or at least did not show any suffering as she sat there taking her uncle's verbal thrashing. Should he intervene now? He couldn't just stand there idly as this all occurred but...

"I was not selling you, idiot niece! I looked high and low for a suitor! One willing to take an oddity and _impertinent_ daughter like you!" He flapped his arms heavily as if that would make him more imposing, but the girl sat where she fell with no severe reaction towards him. He was a heavyset man, with a plump belly and beard bushy and thick. He wore medium grade robes of little repute and a wrap around his head in colors of gold like he were royalty. He certainly was lording over his household.

Arslan and the others finally arrived, crowding around him against the narrow entryway into the kitchen. Everyone was surprised by the scene before them, but Arslan, through the gulps of breath he took, was severely troubled by what he saw. The worst the boy had ever received from his parents, King Andragoras and Queen Tahameny, were harsh rebukes from his lord father and cold disinterest from his lady mother. He had seen scolding and parental worry amongst the city children and even with Vahriz to his nephew Daryun, but nothing like this. The pots and containers broken like the relationship breaking before him. This was just awful. He wanted someone to speak up.

"Like you said, who would take me?" the girl rebuked.

"A whore house?"

Before Arslan could speak up Daryun had had just about more than he could tolerate.

" _Enough_!" Daryun's voice resounded, angered. Farangis was right. Who was there to save the daughters or wives of indiscretion when no one blamed the man as responsible as the girl. When he saw the bruise on her cheek as she turned to face him his anger flared, but he could not fault the caretaker. He had a right. He had broken no laws. Daryun had only wished he had arrived sooner, been less hesitant. "If you are going to blame her, why not include both parties?" he offered, his resolve hardened while his embarrassment was shunted away.

Arslan was surprised by Daryun's sudden grandeur. Normally, the boy was the one to cause a fuss over the treatment of the slaves he saw or cry out for the weak. It was refreshing to see his influence spreading and he hoped the kingdom would accept change as well. But, like the slaves at Kashan Fortress, he did not find a look of gratitude on the young maid's face. Her brows raised high, her lips parted slightly and frowning, with wide eyes like they were ghosts. He wondered why she looked that way.

At first, Shana looked back and internally kicked herself for never noticing their presence. She must have been more upset than she realized not to have even heard their arrival. But soon...

 _Oh no..._ she realized. The man from last night was there. The musculature unmistakable in the light of day. He was so painfully handsome but all she could see was the sight of a devil come to ruin everything for her.

While on the other hand...

"How dare--Who are--!" Erutham, Shana's guardian, seemed less worried by a group of well-trained looking people entering his home than peeved at their inconvenient timing. Then, something clicked in him, "Both parties? Wait...you..." he said to Daryun. "Aren't you the man everyone's been--"

"No!" Shana yelled before he finished, but she knew large men with long black hair were unusual in these parts. She shot up onto her feet and ran at him. To Daryun's surprise, she managed to shove him back before he caught himself stepping back. She was boasted to have unusual strength, all in the village agreed, yet, once Daryun knew she was coming he was able to hold her back. She had toned her muscles from years of training under her uncle's tutelage but that did not make her capable of pushing a three hundred pound warrior out of her home. The only home she knew. Her eyes started to well up. She kept them wide open to keep the tears from pouring. "He's not! This isn't the man! Don't look at him. He's no one!"

"Oy, this isn't the time for..." Daryun tried.

He, as the rest, were confused by this rejection. Not for it's futility, but Daryun looked down at the small girl, smaller than ever without her flirtatious confidence, and wondered what more damage he could cause at this point for her to fear? Clearly her uncle already knew about their tryst so what more damage could he do to her. Her small hands pounded at his chest when her pushes became useless. He had dressed down to return to the village, to blend in, but he almost wished he had his breast plate. The girls fists may be small and her strength nothing to boast in comparison to his, but she knew how to land a punch. Every beat slammed with force and pressure.

Her uncle was nothing to fear for Shana but Daryun was everything she had feared.

 _This is like the slaves of Kashan all over again_ , Arslan thought.

"You need to leave! Family matters--"

" _Shana_!" as little as she feared her uncle, his command snapped into her like any trained soldier. She stopped the moment he ordered, one hand mid-way up exactly when he spoke. Daryun noticed the shaking then. "That is enough. You have shamed me sufficiently for one day. Now go fetch the tea from the gardens. It has been too long since we've served guests. Since your last cousin's wedding."

"That's not--" Daryun started.

The older man motioned for her to leave but she never turned to see it. All the same she left. Her hands clenched tightly by her sides and her head hung low. Still, Daryun noticed moisture in her eyes. He wanted to say something, anything to her, but his throat caught and his words vanished with the last of her form gone from the door.

Daryun stared. The uncle sighed. He looked at the group, not rag-tag at all for all the aura they carried with them. The dark haired man responsible, a blonde male with a solemn face, a short red-haired man without much care in the world, a woman with much care in the world despite her lack of clothing, a foreign man with dark skin, and then the child....

"Come, I would like to speak to the man who has ruined my brother's daughter."

Daryun frowned but felt deserving of the insult so he walked towards Erutham without another word. Shana's reaction to him taking the bite out of him. The others tried to follow.

"No, just this man," he ordered.

"With all due respect," Narsus started, glowing with the light bouncing off his fair hair. "Daryun is a highly honorable man and would promise almost anything for this mistake. I will not stand by as my friend potentially sells himself to you in order to redeem your niece."

The man snickered at Narsus, but that was the normal reaction Narsus received from most.

"Sir, Erutham, please," Arslan started. As much as Daryun took full charge in this matter he still felt he should do something. Something better than what he could do for Hodir's slaves. "We mean no disrespect but Daryun is an important retainer of mine. I would like to see what passes as his master. He meant no disrespect by taking your niece. He is an honorable man, one I would trust with my life."

Daryun felt similarly for the little prince.

After Arslan's speech, the man, Erutham, bowed onto one knee unexpectedly to answer, "As much as I would be damned for this insult. I could not sully myself any further to you, Prince Arslan."

Everyone jumped when the name was uttered on the man's lips. Jaswant was ready with a hand to his dagger and Farangis and Narsus stood ready for anything. Gieve was the only one looking for opportunity and exit. Daryun could only stare at his lord and master in shock, unable to account for this.

The Prince could only stand where he stood with wide eyes, hardly able to continue, but he tried.

"How do you..." he said weakly.

"Please, do not be alarmed," Erutham said. "I am a supporter of the Pars royal family and have sold many of my services to the current King Andragoras myself. My delivered goods is how I came to know you, Your Highness. I often saw you follow after your father in the shadows as a very small boy. The king is a man of this bright era and I mourn for his loss in battle, and keep far from the barbarians that invade our towns." He breathed in deeply through his nose and bowed deeply. "I still support the monarchy and I support _you,_ Prince Arslan." He raised his head as he said, "I offer any of my services to you, Your Highness, Arslan, and know that you are safe so long as I am here. But please, I offer you everything and anything I own, so I beg you...not to partake in these scandalous proceedings. Please, Your Highness," he ended, then bowed forehead until it touched the ground.

Arslan was taken back by his sincerity and had no heart to refuse the man such a request of such personal meaning. He was already lying to his kingdom about his origins, but he had already decided for the good of the country. He could not let a crazed banished prince who offers his kingdom to his enemies first before his people and he could not let the Lusitanians continue their reign of horror.

He could lie to his people to protect them. So, he could allow this man his secrecy for his niece's sake.

And as much as that sounded naive, _for his niece's sake_ , Arslan could not have been more right. The boisterious man, trying to marry away his only precious niece, could only act brash towards that same child who he partially blamed for his brother's demise. Yet, she was his brother's daughter, through and through, and he could not hate her. He also could not protect her any longer and the only way for girls in this world was for them to marry well. The Prince, despite his naivety, could understand this tenderness, no matter how deep he tried to bury it in the face of the world. He knew this man struggled and he knew his people struggled not just because of this war but because half of his people were enslaved. He knew his people better than any ruler from any blue blood. It was how he won over the stubborn Narsus, the indulgent Gieve, the faithful Jaswant, the bitter Elam, and the faithfulness of Farangis and Alfreed's loyalty to her love. It was how he would win over yet another follower in the hours to come.

 

\-------------------------------

 

"Do you need any help?"

Arslan was left with Jaswant to roam Erutham's home until they were done talking. He felt like a child placed aside for the adults to coordinate, but he understood it was his title not his age that barred him from the room. Gieve was elsewhere trying to find poetic license. While Narsus went to aid his friend with Erutham, despite his complaints, and Farangis followed to remind the men of their moral obligations to the gods.

The girl was crouched close to the ground, her knees close to her chest, and her shawl, maybe a veil, covered her from the sun. Arslan could still see the glare in her eyes as she looked at him. They looked moist and redder, as if she had been crying. Along with the red of her orbs she looked a fright as she judged him from below. There was so much bitterness in those eyes. A harsh, heated bitterness.

"No," she said tightly. She used her sleeve to rub at her eyes quickly. She even tried to sniff quietly but Arslan could still hear. Then she promptly plucked another leaf off it's stalk, swiftly and cleanly. She gripped then snapped each leaf off its stem. Her half basket filled a third of the way full.

"But don't they always say, 'The more the merrier'?"

She eyed him then, from under her veil. "You can keep your pretty, smooth hands away. You won't blemish them and the leaves won't rip under your misguided care."

He laughed at her jab uncomfortably. "I cannot say the latter couldn't happen, I am naive when it comes to a garden, but a tender leaf has never hurt a maid. So why should I be any different?" She looked up at that comment and stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed so sincere about working she did not stop him as he knelt close to her. "I'm sure a prince can come out just as fine to earn his keep, even if it is a pot of tea." He smiled at her warmly and she almost melted at the sight of it until he snapped a leaf off and ripped it at a jagged cut across the main body. No where near ripping off the stem end.

"Ahh!" Arslan fretted. He held the limp, miniscule piece to her and said, "Oh no, I've broken it completely. What do I do?" He worried as if he had done a grievous thing to her personally and Shana had a hard time keeping her laugh down her throat.

"Just...toss it," was all she said between chuckles. She turned back to her task and hardened herself after that slip. _What was wrong with me?_ she wondered.

Arslan watched her pick a few this time before he tried again.

"So, your name is Shana?" he asked to fill the silence.

She eyed him as if it were possible he hadn't heard her name spread across the village as gossip of news does. Though, she merely nodded in reply.

"Shana of the Jahanna Oasis..." he tried out the name as if her were knighting her. "I am Arslan, by the way," he said with a smile.

He eyed him severely, as if he were slow or damaged in the head. If her uncle's reaction hadn't been a clue, of course _anyone_ from Pars knew who the boy was. The look on her face made Arslan a bit jumpy and nervous. He wondered where such a severe look came from but she was already back to picking leaves before he thought to ask. Arlsan scratched his scalp more out of nervousness than anything else. This was not going the way he imagined. Although, a many things in his life since he stepped out of Ecbatana to fight in Atropatene was nothing like he imagined. The world was harsher than he ever imagined.

They went at picking tea leaves in silence for a quite a while. Arslan was fascinated by how crisp the smell of the leaves were from the juice leaking out from where it was ripped once he had calmed. The minty scent helping. He was acquainted with fresh leaves, it's not as if he hadn't entered the kitchens for snacks or his maids tenderly gave him fresh tea when he was sick. He was not ignorant. But he had never picked leaves himself and smelled the just rip scent of them. He had never seen the juice ooze out as it did and leave a clean taste in the air.

Shana was just glad for the silence. She mulled over what her last remaining options were. Maybe she could drive that man insane and he'd gladly send her back to her uncle.

"Isn't that quite a bit for just eight people?" he asked, trying to make light conversation. He saw how full the basket was getting and felt then was a good moment to talk. She seemed to be okay now, settled if not a little irritated, but he couldn't believe she was fine.

"The leaves are best dried for tea." Snap. Snap. Snap.

"Will they not taste as good like this?" he asked, innocently.

"Makes the tea too strong too fast. And I already have a dry batch in the cupboards." Snap.

"Then, why are we picking--"

"Because my uncle wants me busy and out of the way so he can haggle a price for me," she finally admitted. She slapped the leaves in her hands into the basket, but the harsh motion only served to blow their hard work every which way. She left them as she cradled her head in her palms.

"I'm sorry," Arslan said, hesitant, unsure what he needed to do. He rarely ever comforted others, everyone around him was too strong. It was normally him left to be cradled by others at his breaking point. "It is hard when parents treat you as if you barely matter. I didn't mean to upset you."

She shot up and stood straight up. More leaves fell. The defiance in her eyes was lightly muted by the redness on her cheeks and moisture building in her eyes. "Well, you did. So, just leave me alone!" she said. Then stormed off with the basket, only halfway filled from her tantrum, and made her way back to the kitchen. She passed Jaswant. Who leaned against the kitchen's entrance from the gardens and eyed her as he said, "You should be more polite to your Prince. Like your uncle."

She glared at him pointedly before she stepped past. Shana heard the little prince following behind like a sad puppy, a distance but still ever following. He had cradled the leaves she had dropped. She found it all so annoying, especially with how meek he was. She pushed past Jaswant but not before snidely remarking, "Yeah, because the king and queen and their precious son have ever done anything for me. A small village girl with little rights of her own." She knew what she was saying could get her a fine slap, or worse, but she was so angry she did not care.

Once next to the counter she slammed her basket down and started to boil a kettle over the open fire pit. Then set about pulling trays, placing tall, colored cups onto it, scattering the leaves onto a drying mat and sorting out the dried ones. She did everything with practiced precision.

Arslan stepped inside gingerly as he said, "Sorry to intrude..."

She glared at Arslan. "My uncle gave you free reign of the house, you're not intruding."

"Eh? Oh, ah, yes, that's right," Arslan said, with a small smile and a laugh, as if to erase the tension in the room. He gingerly stepped closer to drop his hoard of tea into the basket. Arslan tried another avenue since it was an obvious enough one, especially when she and Jaswant stood side by side for a moment. "So...Where are you from? You look more Parsian than foreign, but still--"

"Different?" she offered. She went back to crushing dry leaves into a jar when she said, "I was born here, don't know any other place, but my uncle said my mother was from far to the east. Doesn't know the name, but it's past the Turcs and Sindhura." She eyed Jaswant at the mention of his home. "He says I picked up my features from her."

Jaswant said in the background how he was from Sindhura, with his tan skin and tall, thin frame. Shana scoffed back how she couldn't tell at all. "And I thought I attracted attention." Shana may have her odd features and red eyes, but Jaswant was a complete foreigner compared to her. It made her feel a bit better that this man would stand out more than Shana in a crowd.

Arslan cut in, "Daryun told me you lost your parents young. I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, genuinely confused by his apology for an event he had nothing to do with.

"Ahh! I'm just...It's just an offer of condolences, I wish to give," Arslan tried to laugh that off too. She only frowned. "Ah-hahahah?" _What was he to do to alleviate this situation? What would put her at ease?_

She wondered what game he playing. Why he would even feign to work? Although, unless it was an act, he looked sincere about it. Then why would he would bother being nice to her? It was all the sort of thing she last expected and also the last thing she wanted from anyone. In her current mood, she liked the hard-ass Jaswant better by a degree.

She opened a cupboard and blinked then frowned in irritation at their emptiness. "We're out of bread..." She closed the cupboard and walked away. Shana went towards the other side of the room and lifted a brown traveler's cloak off the wall. Despite the heat, and the wrap already loosely covering her head, she still wore the cloak with the hood up and hung low over her face. "I'll return soon."

"I'll go with you," Arslan followed up quickly. He didn't fully understand why he wanted this girl to like him, but he knew he wanted her to feel better. The sort of anger she had in her drove people to madness, like his lord cousin. She was too young to have to go through that alone.

Jaswant eyed his master and raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Your Highness--"

"No!" Shana shot him down. "Stay here and enjoy the house. Sleep in my uncle's room for all I care. Your servant can take care of tea for you. The water's ready." Before Arslan could argue and before Jaswant could say anything she had left and Arslan followed, like a puppy.

"Your Highness--Prince Arslan!" Jaswant yelled.

"Don't worry! And don't tell Daryun!" was what he said, but Jaswant didn't feel comfortable with the situation. So he followed them amongst the shadows and hid between the crowd of bodies at the market.


	4. The Little Prince and the Little Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Prince Arslan's wishes is to treat everyone fairly. Even an arrogant village girl assassin who can't seem to keep her cruel thoughts to herself. Yet, actions speak louder than frivolous words to Arslan, and that is what catches his attention.

Shana had noticed Jaswant following a few yards away, so that Arslan could not detect him, but she was trained to notice. She wasn't pampered like her many cousins.

 

"Shana!" Arslan called out.

 

 _And not like this small whelp,_ she thought to herself. She sighed but did nothing to stop him.

 

He eventually caught up, still walking by her but slouched to catch his breath. "You're not even running and you're so fast."

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

Arslan chuckled, with real humor this time. "You remind me a lot of Daryun, both so physically active."

 

She groaned and frowned at the comment, clutching her basket close. She would look ugly like that if it weren't so comical to Arslan. He smiled at her and despite her hard shell her anger lightened some at the sight of that brightness.

 

But not fully, "That idiot?" she retorted.

 

Arslan knew he had stepped on a scorpion. He shouldn't have brought up Daryun. As much as he wanted to support Daryun and vouch for his character, now was probably not the time.

 

"I'm _way_ smarter than him, the geezer," she boasted, but with little to back up such a statement. "How old is he anyway?"

 

"Haha...He is only twenty-seven. The youngest to receive the Marz--" ' _Marzban title...Before Father demoted him just before Atropatane...'_ Arslan thought.

 

"Mars? He is a marsdan?" Shana asked.

 

"Uh..." It was not what he was about to say, but she was not wrong, so he agreed, "Yes, a marsdan..."

 

"Hmph, well done for himself but he must be going senile already. Maybe hit in the head too many times in battle."

 

"I'm surprised," Arslan suddenly said.

 

Shana looked at him then, confused. "Why?"

 

"That this heated anger isn't taking it out on your uncle and Daryun as they talk."

 

They separated as a passerby split them but they caught up to each other a few gaz[1] later. Shoulder to shoulder again. Her small stature at fifteen the same as Arslan's at age fourteen.

 

"You have such a strong will, why listen to your uncle so obediently?" He had been so distant from his own king father and queen mother that he knew he tried his best to obey them because he wanted their affections. He wondered if Shana were the same, with such a uncle as she had.

 

"Hmph, the prince telling me to be rebellious. How ironic." She stopped to look at a stall of vegetables and even picked up a few to test their quality. "Not like it matters what my will is. That's just the way. What say do girls have against their father, essentially."

 

"I can't imagine social decorum stopping you, though," Arslan commented. "Why do you stay?" he asked simply, but the simplicity and the quality of the question struck Shana. She faltered holding onto a wilting cabbage. She dug her fingers in and saw the juices pressing out. She wished her emotions could release from her so easily.

 

"He is...all I have," she said tightly. She dropped the vegetable down hard back to the table. The stall owner only had time to yell a few words of anger by the time Shana walked away.

 

Arslan was taken aback by her reaction, more solemn than he imagined. His shock delayed him for a few seconds and he had to rush once more to catch up with her. He was not out of breath this time. His heart felt too sunken and low in his chest for tiredness to reach where it had fallen.

 

He walked with her, side-by-side, and waited for her to answer. Her brows were knit and she would not look up from the ground.

 

"Do you have no one else?" he asked, saddened by the sudden thought. If Daryun, Narsus...everyone, if they were not with him would he be just as bitter as Shana? As his lord cousin, Hermes?

 

"No one I care for...I...after my parents...after my father left I felt abandoned. I know he was killed by bandits. I know he did not leave me of his own wishes, nor my mother, but I was alone nonetheless."

 

Arslan nodded and made a noise to tell her he was listening, but he could not help remember those moments after the quiet of Atropane when he was horrified and alone.

 

"My uncle took me in but I had no place among his family. I had no place among the girls of my village nor the people here. I was born in Jahanna but all anyone saw was what made me different. Waking everyday just felt like a forced motion, a cycle I was not apart of but could not leave. Then..."

 

"Then?"

 

"My uncle...he noticed one day. I could sneak up on anyone no matter how quiet it was around me. I scared him halfway to death he said. That's how he said it began. Then he noticed me catching falling plates Sarai, his wife, dropped. My extra ordinary strength, even at a young age. Then my aim when I hit a squirrel right on it's skull, said it was my rightful dinner that night"

 

"You ate a squirrel?!" Arslan exclaimed.

 

She jumped a bit at his outburst but shook her head to reaffirm she had indeed eaten the squirrel.

 

"What taste does it have?" he asked, serious and actually curious, but after a second the curiosity broke and his reserved manner returned. "I-I'm sorry," he coughed, "p-please continue."

 

"Um...well, you can guess by now," she paused at a stall to look at his wares but continued, "he saw the potential for what I am now. My uncle began to train me when I was eight years old. It was the first time in my life I felt useful..." she said the last part, wistful and far gone, remembering something only she could see, eyeing a glass container for sale.

 

"He trained...a young girl? As a soldier? Didn't anyone complain to Erutham about such things?"

 

She looked at him as if he had grown horns and she wasn't sure how to react.

 

"You've got that weird priestess with you. No one in Jahanna has met women such as her, so I am more surprised by your lack of reaction to her."

 

"Aahh," he fretted, _There is Alfreed as well..._ he thought. "I suppose I'm just...baffled by your uncle. He does not look the type to overlook your feminine qualities. Especially considering what he is discussing with Daryun."

 

Her bottom lip pursed tightly and she looked away again. "He probably just thought he'd never have much use for me until I got married off. I'm just a useful tool for his business. ...I don't think he's ever loved me."

 

"No, I'm--" he wanted to tell her that she must be wrong, he was family, of course he loved her, but he wavered when he thought about his own relations. "Not everyone has a good relationship with their relatives...but I'm sure your uncle cares for you."

 

"Don't compare me to you," she snapped. Arslan was taken aback at her coldness.

 

"I...wasn't comparing anything. I just--"

 

"There's nothing for girls like me but marriage, the brothels, or enslavement," she said. "You're mother, the queen's, not too much different," she added at the last minute, thoughtlessly.

 

"I--I can't say that conditions for the common women are not something to be desired, but I must protest at your comment about my mother," Arslan said, offended for the first time. The queen may have been cold to him but she had never been cruel to him, despite his newfound realization that she was not his. She conducted herself strong and willed.

 

"She's been tossed around from ruler to ruler, conqueror to next conqueror, from king to brother. When has she ever had control over her own life? She has the power where she can reward out treasures and punishment when the king is absent, but what reward has she ever been given for her own self worth?" She put down the container she was holding, a small lizard trapped inside and eyes swirling at them. "She's as trapped as the rest of us in a world of greedy men." She moved on, and, slower to react, Arslan followed.

 

He was saddened by her bleak view of life. Even though he knew all too well what terror and damage men in powerful positions could cause. A reason he kept fighting with the Lusitanians and his lord cousin despite the casualties he feared with each battle. The people of Pars are hurt for the same reason as Shana has stated. All of Pars was suffering from men of greed.

 

Yet, he had to wonder how truthful her words might be. If he acknowledged she was right though...it meant Pars was at fault for Shana, not the Lusitanians. But he knew so little about the lives of his people, only recently coming to grips with the faults of slavery. Let alone the women who were shuttered away in houses for their moral safety. He saw plenty of wives and mothers out on the streets of Ecbatana but their movements always restricted. Never allowed in certain establishments and never allowed any say in who they marry or love. It was a world Arslan knew so little of. Farangis with her great beauty and priestess status and Alfreed with her freedoms as a Zot Clan member could not be expected to react the same way as those like Shana. A common girl in the kingdom of Pars--

 

"Oh _no_..." she said, stopping abruptly from something she saw ahead of them. Arslan just stared without much thought and it wasn't until she shot her arm up in front of him did he stop where he was. He looked ahead and saw a group of Lusitanian soldiers browsing the wares ahead. " _No_ ," Shana said, biting her lower lip.

 

Arslan pulled his hood lower over his face and eyed the men from a downward gaze to hide his features. "What's wrong?" he asked Shana.

 

"They're blocking the way to Ezriz's shop. He's the best baker in town..." she sounded torn. What was her next move? This would have been simple enough on her own but with the Prince of all Pars with her....

 

She took hold of his wrist and led him left into the next line of stalls and shops. Less crowded and sparse. She remembered an alternative route. Arslan followed without complaint, used to others taking charge, he just wasn't used to someone physically taking him somewhere. Her touch was hot where she gripped his wrist. So she was overheated under all those layers.

 

He also noticed how firm her hold was but not painful. Really, it felt as if she had wrapped her fingers around his wrist like a loose rope, pulling him along but in the politest way possible. He probably would not have blushed at the thought of a young woman holding his arm if she had not been so gentle with him. Her hold like a tender embrace, solid but kind.

 

"Uhh, Shana?" he said awkwardly.

 

Jaswant followed close above on the rooftops of the bazaar, ready to cut down enemies if they came too close or familiar with his master. Silent as a panther with sharp green orbs eyeing his lord. He raised an eyebrow though at his lord's consternation.

 

"Why can't we just pass the guards? None of them know my face."

 

"Because those barbarians tried to take liberties from Ezriz's daughter so he closes shop when they're around. They will not open their doors to anyone."

 

She finally stopped at the end of way where the building was ill-built, leaning against the one next to it. She pulled him behind an abandoned stall and into an opening in the building. The roof was gone and light streamed in easily. The perfect location, hidden but well lit for Shana's trick. She gingerly held Arslan's arms and swung him deeper into the space and motioned for him to stay. To say the least he was confused, he blinked at her many times.

 

"Stay here until I get back. And hold this." She gave him the basket she had been totting. He looked at it with confusion. Where was she going? "I'll be right back." From there she jumped where she stood like a cat several feet into the air, far above Arslan's head and he made a gasp from how impressed he was. She pushed her shoulder in an arch and as soon as her body was horizontal she did the same with her back. As if she were vaulting over an invisible goal like he had seen from traveling Graekos athletes entertaining in Ecbatana as a child. She was on her way to reaching the large alcove far above him.

 

"Wow! Shana!" he exclaimed. Shana almost missed the timing when she heard his shout. His bright eyes gleamed in the sun from having to stare up and seemed to amplify his admiration. "I didn't know you could do such a thing!"

 

He looked so pure and bright from where she could see him.

 

She glared at him from upside down as she flipped so she could land on her hands and grip the slick surface. She balanced upside down before slowly dropping her legs. She crouched in the small space, looking down at Arslan. She was getting annoyed again. "How else do you think I got into that party last night?" she called down.

 

"Eh? By disguise?" he answered with the first thing that came to his head.

 

"Well...yes, but, that's not the point! Stay quiet! We need to keep away from Lusitanians, not attract them!"

 

"Oh, right!" he said softly this time. He held his cape closer to his body in response.

 

"I'll be back soon."

 

She barely had room to stand but it was enough to get a running start. She sprinted to her right and jumped at the end of the alcove and kicked against the wall in order to grab at the edge of the roof. Roofs in Pars were flat with a bit of ledge that rose up like battlements. She caught hold of the ledge and used what she could grip to pull herself up but used a good deal of her slippered feet to climb up and over. Then she was off.

 

"Wow...she's like Elam...with more grace," Arslan commented after the fact. He eyed the abandoned room and looked at his shoes to pass the time. He felt like a child again...but he could not have made it up there, at least, not efficiently.

 

Although, on her word, she was not long, gone maybe three minutes. A single minute taken up by the thanks she gave to the baker and his wife. Yet, Arslan could not have anticipated her even if he knew when she would be back. She popped her head out from a window no larger than a serving tray. The shutters made a noise and Shana coughed at the dust building.

 

The window was only meant to be big enough to fit a waste bucket to throw out.

 

"How did you get in there?"

 

"The baker says this is how his kids get out when there's a crowd outside. There are openings in each building all the way up to this one."

 

She tucked her shoulders close in and slipped out as easy as a mouse from the small space.

 

"No, wait, how could you have possibly fit?" Arslan asked. She was thin and small but the same height as him. It seemed impossible what she was doing but here he was, watching it happen.

 

Her arms freed, she pushed at the walls until she naturally just fell out of the hole but landed silently on her feet. The disturbance of dry mud the only indication of her fall.

 

"Shana," Arslan went over to her with an impressed look on his face, "That was amazing."

 

She was rarely...if ever complimented, by anyone. She paused brushing at the dirt on her clothes and blushed but tried to shake the happy feeling bubbling up her chest away.

 

"Maybe for Ezriz's children I am amazing, but I'm sure the people you travel with are better," she countered, brushing off the complement as effectively as she was brushing off the dirt on her clothes. She pulled the bread from behind her inside her cloak but he saw no bag and wondered how she carried it with her.

 

"Yes, you're just like Elam--"

 

"Who's Elam?"

 

But Arslan did not hear her in his excitement.

 

"And Jaswant! Quiet and sneaky!"

 

"I'm assuming that's the tall and dark Sindhurian with the green eyes following us around?" But she did not get a reaction out of him even at that revelation.

 

"And I have seen women of skill but your's is so...how do I put it? It befits you so well! The stealth and movement is like with a grace I've never seen. I would say like a mouse--"

 

Well that wasn't flattering.

 

"--But you have the cunning to capture a mouse itself, therefore you are like a cat that knows no boundaries or quarters to catch their prey."

 

Well, the prey part reminded her of all those _targets_ her uncle assigned her when he sent her out during one of his odd missions.

 

She had a snide remark ready but, as she looked up to eye him suspiciously, all rebukes whittled away on her tongue. His eyes were sparkling and he had his hands gripped in front of his face like an excitable child. They were too pure....

 

"Um...thanks? I've always liked cats," was all she could think to say. She placed the wrapped bread inside the basket Arslan had forgotten he held and took it away from him as he realized.

 

"We should head back. It's not worth a few vegetable pieces with the Lusitanians everywhere."

 

Arslan had a proposition, one to benefit everyone if she agreed. "Won't you reconsider?" he pleaded, more desperately than he had intended but it grabbed her attention.

 

"Reconsider shopping? Not really. I'm not that sort."

 

He had blurted out the words without context and realized she was no where near him in the conversation. "No, I...I mean about Daryun," he said, softly this time. She had already reacted poorly to just a mention of him before let alone when they had meet again. He knew she would not like what he had to say, but he had to try. He had to convince her. "I realize you may have your reasons to stay here, but clearly your uncle wants this union to push through. I won't ask you to love Daryun, but could you...would you consider giving back your love to Pars?"

 

She had half listened when he mentioned that man's name again but raised her brows at the end.

 

"I plan to drive out the Lusitanians and bring peace to Pars. Will you not join me in making that happen?"

 

 _He was asking me?_ she thought, surprised. With such a big, little prince, she would have expected him to simply _tell her_ that she was now to help his army, but he hadn't. He had not even assumed her answer.

 

"Regardless of what Daryun and your uncle decide, could I ask you to join my side and free all of Pars, along with your oasis?"

 

As humbled as she was by his sincerity, his offer instead of demand, she could not...

 

"I don't plan to leave my uncle, no matter what anyone says."

 

Arslan smiled sadly, not because he heard a no, but because of how loyal and dedicated she felt.

 

"We love our caretakers, regardless they are not our real parents, I suppose."

 

Jaswant eyes widened at his sovereign's admission but it was too late.

 

"You make it sound like that includes--" Shana's eyes went wide. The almond shape blurring.

 

"I only felt if you were to follow me you should know--"

 

"What? You mean you're not...?"

 

"No..."

 

The shock was real but she had already been rude to him this whole time so it was easy to brush away the effort he must have put to tell her. "Why should I follow you then? You're no prince. I have no real loyalties besides my uncle's. What could I possibly gain from you? The Lusitanians will go eventually. They'll get homesick, they'll..." she tried to convince herself. Trying to cover how upset she felt by the revelation. She had never cared about the royals except what good business they gave her uncle, but she still felt the lie. How horrible this will be for her uncle.

 

"They might never stop as well..." Arslan said, solemnly. Shana stopped.

 

"Have you always known?" she asked.

 

"Only a few weeks ago...it came to my attention...by my men."

 

"Then why stick your head in all this? Why bother with all this mess? The Lusitanians have already taken the stronghold capital and the king and queen. What can you possible think you can do?"

 

Arslan was still looking for the answers to that himself. He had enough to satisfy most, but still he was not satisfied himself. He came close though, as he admitted, "Because the faith Daryun, Narsus, all those following me have in me. They want what is best for Pars and they're fighting for it with all their spirit. I want that will returned in full."

 

 _It seemed so dutiful..._ Shana thought. Not unlike herself.

 

He looked straight and forward at Shana when he said, "I can't rely on the Lusitanians to treat the people of Pars fairly even with their preaches." _And I certainly can't rely on Hermes, an exiled prince vying for a throne he threw to the dogs first._ "I want to save Pars, regardless of who I am."

 

"I..." 

 

 

 

 

[1] yards


	5. The Price of an Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What lengths will Erutham go to get rid of his troublesome niece? 
> 
> When Daryun looses Narsus' help he is at a loss of how to get out of this situation...this... He did not like the thought of marrying a young girl just to save face with her shrewd uncle. But Daryun and the others are in for a pleasant surprise.

The man was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Erutham had lived a successful life only through his steel mind. It had ultimately driven his wife away, but he could not regret what had brought him success. He could find pride in a hard life if he had earned it. Yet, he could not console the tomfoolery of his deceased brother. The man had been a dreamer, the opposite to Erutham's pragmatism. Shana's father, Mikkum, had married a foreigner because _it was love at first sight_. What a stupid concept. He be damned if he allowed Shana to grow up anything like him, and she had not, thankfully. Yet, no matter how unlike her father she was, capable, smart, calm and collected, obedient--well, until now. But he could not rid himself even still of the smallest things that reminded him of her father. The doe-ful eyes they both shared, even if the size and shape were different. When she cared for his children like a sister he saw the same softness and kindness in her that had besotted his brother to his future wife.

Gods...she could say anything that was common place but just the way he heard her say it he would snap and remember Mikkum. He was nothing like her...and yet they were everything like each other just because Erutham knew who they were to each other. Shana had been sad when she had been taken in by Erutham, because she knew her father would never return. Yet, he never saw her cry. He thought that best...

_He remembered a time, so long ago now, where at one point she had disappeared from his sight and he thought she had finally gone to mourn. He thought nothing of it...until he turned and she was right there. Eruthan had jumped and fell back with a scream. He had no idea she was so near, let alone right next to him. When had she gotten there? She was so quiet..._

_How had he not noticed a half-foreign looking child with bright blue clothes and shining red eyes so close?_

_She did nothing when he reacted like that. When he had enough time to collect himself he asked her what she had done. She had replied that she had done nothing. Erutham eyed her oddly and intently for the first time since the news of his brother reached him and he had taken Shana in._

 

"So..." Daryun started, breaking Erutham out of his musings, "You won't force us into a marriage?"

 

Erutham nodded, stiff and cross-armed on his cushion. He quickly returned to the matter at hand.

 

Daryun sat similarly with crossed legs. Despite his stature his shoulders were slumped lesser than Erutham. "And you won't hold me to any other obligation other than to keep Shana by my side?" Daryun was minutely confused, and most guiltily relieved. He had not wanted to settle down into a marriage, not at a time like this, but he had not imagined things going so...simply. Erutham's demands were but one thing and one thing only. He wanted his niece out of the village and she was to stay away. The only way to assure that was to keep Shana with Daryun, but he had not demanded they marry. Just that he keep her by his side and watched. "That is all?"

 

"Yes," Erutham affirmed. "I want you to protect her--No, she can do that--simply...I would be humbled if you would see fit to make her an ally."

 

Daryun shouldn't argue. Why argue with such a pleasant deal. Surely, Shana would have no qualms coming with them to serve the prince, especially with how adamant her uncle was to rid her. She would understand.

 

But Daryun couldn't relieve his guilt that way...

 

Fortunately, Farangis stepped in for him. "This does not resolve the stain upon your niece's virtue," she said flatly.

 

"Nor your reputation," Narsus added, confusion also in the lilt of his voice. He stroked his chin in thought, contemplative. "Marriage would be your only viable, moral option, would it not? Certainly the easier option on your part?" He was suspicious of how easily the man had relented.

 

"Easier?" he laughed at that. "My good Lord, trust me when I say just getting Shana to leave me will be a task in and of itself. You'll not likely ever meet another girl like her," he said, but Erutham himself had never met women the likes of Etoile, a lady knight in disguise. Nor Narsus' hardheaded follower, self-proclaimed lover, Alfreed. Still, he had a point.

 

"I must protest though..." Daryun spoke up.

 

"Are you worried about your own reputation?" Erutham shot at him. "After sullying my niece's?" he continued to goad.

 

"No, it's nothing like--"

 

"Then are you worried about how prospective she is? Her worth?" He didn't stop to breathe let alone give Daryun a chance. "She is strong like an oxen. In fact, with enough motivation she can lift oxen with her bare hands. No man, except you my Lord, could have taken her at the brothel." When she would have needed occasion to lift an ox was beyond any of them but Daryun had noted her strength. "But. Half my business works under stealth and capture of information as a trader. Even as a small girl, Shana had an unnatural ability to hide within plain sight, make herself unnoticeable even with her features. I trained Shana to master those talents. She has an aptitude with aim and can fire any weapon with tight control."

 

"What weapons?" Narsus asked, humoring the man he told himself.

 

"Any!" he proclaimed, oddly prouder than he had ever shown to the men before about Shana.

 

Narsus' eyes widened. "Bows?"

 

"Even longbows." A girl that size, it seemed impossible that she could, but why would he lie about such unrealistic standards if they were not true?

 

"What swords has she mastered?" Narsus continued asking.

 

"That of any shape and size. The sword of a knight or that of a lowly thief. Daggers, knives, hidden blades and stars, longswords, halfswords, spears, anything!"

 

"Staves? Javelins, slings, horse-riding, poisons--"

 

"Yes! Yes! All of those and more, my lord!" Erutham shouted excitedly and besides himself when he realized his excitement. He coughed into his fist and continued on with more tact. "I taught her dexterity in disguise as you are all very well aware of." Daryun grunted awkwardly. "Since she was young I have molded her at the art of stealth. The girl can secret her way into anywhere, the smallest of spaces. What more could you want in a wife? She _is_ of use to you _and_ to the Prince, by gone it!"

 

Daryun was still unimpressed, being a warrior himself none of what he had said was particularly impressive he told himself. He hoped to gain some support from Narsus but when he looked over at the man he saw stars in his eyes. Daryun flinched at the excitement spiraling in Narsus' head. Plots and schemes Daryun could not imagine.

Narsus mused about the tactical use of such a girl. Trained like Elam but with the mind of a woman. They said poison was a woman's weapon, out of weakness, but you had to have forethought and cunning to implement poisons. He smiled at the prospect at the expense of his friend's displeasure. His morals would survive, Narsus reasoned. Farangis was merely surprised Shana had such skill considering how easily they had found her. One would think a trained thing would know how to cover their tracks.

 

"Erutham--" he started slowly, a sigh in his voice. As impressive as it was for a small girl to be similarly trained like a man it did not impress Daryun. He realized he had not known any of these skills besides the disguising, but from her escape this morning it made some sense, but to process later--"I meant no discontent or disrespect to you, Erutham. I just...I don't understand why you would go to such lengths, you even threatened your niece with the brothel, but then as soon as I offer reparations you do not follow through?"

 

"I do find that most peculiar of all, considering the circumstances, my good sir," Farangis agreed.

 

"I must admit, my Lord Daryun, you are better than I could ever have hoped for, let alone for Shana, but My Lords and Lady," Erutham started, slowly this time. "Do you wonder why I have no children other than Shana in my household?"

 

Daryun had noticed. How oddly large and silent the residence was. It looked ready to hold a large family, not just one man and his servant niece. "I assumed your daughter being married off meant she would have left for her husband's household."

 

"Sir, I have ten children in total."

 

_Ten?_

 

"My wife up and left me a few years ago. I had to pay the village women to care for my youngest. Shana took care of the rest like an eldest despite being the seventh youngest in the household."

 

"Hmm..." Narsus said in the open air between reactions. He was not the least bit surprised though.

 

"An admirable thing of her," Farangis said kindly, noticing the sudden stiffness in the man. But she only half paid attention to that. More focused she found, on how odd the more and more the man said about Shana the more the djinn became unsettled in their unspoken language that only she heard. What made them so agitated by the situations of a trader and his niece? He admitted to training the girl like a spy but the djinn were never disturbed by Elam, who had once dressed as a woman in disguise. The air had a peculiar scent to it.

 

Erutham paused that brief summary, as if the rest were a weight upon his mind. The weight that Farangis noticed. Something more troublesome than admitting his wife left him. "My children were slowly becoming men or married off to suitors at an acceptable rate. I accelerated that process with my last daughter and son at the news of Ecbatana's fall.

 

"I'm a well-known supporter of the Pars royalty, Lord Daryun. I have been lucky because of my trade skills that the Lusitanians haven't done anything as of yet. No one has ratted me out because they know I'm the only one who can stand up to the Lusitanians and win because of my wealth and resources. But everything's only a matter of time. If the Lusitanians deem me a heathen or if my support of Prince Arslan's campaign makes it's way to their ears. I have already sent eighty percent of my supplies, foodstuffs, water, horses, wine, metal supplies for your blacksmiths, and so on to Peshawar when I heard of your stay there. The only thing I have left, the only thing I have of value left is Shana."

 

 _Value_ made it sound as if he viewed Shana as a thing like his horses and supplies. Even Daryun took notice.

 

"And fate could not have been any more serendipitous," Erutham continued. He finally uncrossed his arms. Daryun thought they might creak like an old mechanical toy with how stiff he sat the whole conversation. Yet, they glided to his sides easily and he bowed just as smoothly at Daryun. "Please, great warrior, great Marzban of his generation, oh, Lord Daryun."

 

Daryun had been used to entitled treatment, but he felt awkward by this exchange. He had been such a hard man this whole time, and it had been Daryun that had done the wrong, plus, he wasn't a Marzban officially, he felt wrong to be humbling Erutham.

 

"Take her away and keep her away from here. She has refused to leave my side, numerous times. I am hard with her but she is the last of my brother's memory. Please keep her away from here where I fear will become my grave."

 

"If you're worried about the Lusitanians, then just flee with us. We will have made it to Peshawar by the time they can do anything," Narsus offered. He was sure his prince would not mind a supporter of the Parsian royalty.

 

"I cannot..."

 

Daryun and Narsus were confused but waited for him to finish. Farangis had left at some point already to speak with the djinn.

"There is ruckus of a battle at Zabul Castle--" The name he had a hard time hearing from last night and the news Narsus had retrieved from the brothel girls. Silvermask was on the move. "--And it has made all the Lusitanians more cautious. They may soon discover Prince Arslan and your party at this rate. I will be the one to delay them with wine and distractions while you make haste."

 

Daryun wasn't surprised at the news but now it made their travel to Peshawar all the more necessary. "There's no need. If we leave now we can--"

 

"You _must_ get Shana to leave me."

 

"If the problem is, she will not leave _you_ then all that must happen is _both_ of you traveling with us. Peshawar will keep you both safe."

 

"Let a man make his last stand where he wishes!" Erutham screamed. He slammed his fist on the low table between them, fuming silently at his struggles. "I have done much in my life that I am proud of, but I have hated Shana for all the foolhardy mistakes my brother has made in her as much as I treasure the memory she keeps of him. Do not make me discuss any more of my shame _and just take her_." He said the last part with some strain.

 

This was not war or battle, not even a battle of wits or of charge. This was a man struggling with the vestiges of himself. Daryun had no say in what the man could and couldn't decide with his own life and choices. They were his own and conflicted with Shana, clearly, but he had no heart to deny the man. He was to convince Shana to leave with him.

 

Like he was so used to, Daryun nodded and said respectfully, "I understand, sir. To the best of my abilities I will take Shana with me." He bowed deeply once more and Erutham shook his head in affirmation. Narsus just sat in contemplation, mulling over the conversation. He suspected it was more than just Lusitanians that frightened the old man but he could not be sure what the other thing was. Paternal instincts?

 

"Thank you..."

 

Daryun stood gracefully to leave the room. Narsus followed suit.

 

"You _have_ to _convince_ her," Erutham said under his breath. Daryun stopped to look back but the man still had not even lifted his head or stopped shaking. "If you can't convince her here and now to come with you then she never will. Her talents will go to waste...never to help His Highness..."

 

Daryun simply nodded once more before leaving the room. Narsus was already out and shook his shoulders when he and Daryun met. "At least I'm not alone in my womanly troubles," he said.

 

"Any advice?" Daryun asked.

 

"Do you think I have any with Alfreed still adamant?"


	6. Farewell, Oasis of Jahanna

Daryun followed the corridors until he and Narsus found Farangis at a window, blowing her silent whistle round her neck.

"She is not here," she told them. "In fact, neither is His Highness nor Jaswant."

That made Daryun worry. "Have you checked all the rooms?"

"The djinn say there is no one else but we and Erutham in the house."

"Jaswant would never leave His Highness' side, there should be nothing to worry about."

They heard the rustling of objects in another room and headed for the kitchen. Arslan and his group were just now arrived back in the kitchens.

Shana was preparing the tea, bread, cheese, and fruits onto a plate solemnly while Arslan busied himself with a drink, a sad look on his face. Jaswant appeared as if he had never left when the guard, tactician, and priestess found them.

"Your Highness, did you leave for somewhere?" Daryun asked, noticing their capes.

"Ah--We just went out to fetch some bread," he answered weakly. 

Daryun noticed. "Is something the matter?"

"No, of course not, nothing at all." He said it all very quickly and as if he wanted to brush off the conversation. Daryun wanted to prod more but this was not the place. He supposed if Shana were to join them it would not matter but he decided on decorum this time.

Shana was about to set the plates in the sitting room and when Daryun noticed her move he stepped towards her. She stopped with a frown but delayed looking up at him. Her lips pursed like an unwilling child.

Narsus noticed the contact between the two and suddenly had some advice to give when he saw her face. "Daryun! Might we all do better after a bit of food?" As in, she might be less angry if she ate something and would be more likely to listen to him.

"No, now is fine." The Lusitanians would not be idle for long. "Shana, your uncle has made clear--"

"No," she said. Then walked past him.

He was confused, they were all confused, but Daryun turned on his heel and caught up to her.

"This isn't such an easy thing as a yes or no answer--"

"No," she put the plate down and arranged the pillows, superfluously fluffing them.

"This isn't a matter of marriage, that's not what we agreed to--"

"And still no," she stood, resolute. "Your prince has already tried with me. Offered me gold and land, to my uncle even. But I still said no, and he offered me many compelling words to turn me. I almost felt a tear I was almost moved. But unless you can come up with something better, I'm staying right--"

Loud bangs could be heard at the front door. They both went silent. Erutham came out from a side room just as quietly and saw the two there. He shooed them into the kitchen and wouldn't hear a thing from Shana. She followed Daryun with clenched fists. He stayed by the curtains of the open door, using a finger to peek through for any problems should they occur.

Shana stood by him and did the same but a few inches lower.

"Daryun?" Arslan asked. The guardsman lifted a finger to his lips. Arslan gasped then kept his mouth closed.

The blue uniforms were unmistakable as Erutham opened the door, the double overlapping cross as threatening as the men who stood just inside of Erutham's door.

The leader asked, "You are Erutham of Jahanna's Oasis, correct?"

All these foreign men smiled as if his answer did not matter, any of his answers.

"Yes. What business do you have with me?"

"We've heard gossip around the town that your daughter was with," he said snidely, "A man of incredible description. We're looking for this man and his companions. We're keen to ask them where these strangers are from."

Shana flinched. Not at their accusations but because of the reason they came. She had made such a ruckus leaving for the sole purpose of word reaching her uncle. So that he would be forced to keep her, never mind his idle threat to sell her to the brothels, she never believed he would. At least, he had never been so cruel to her before. She had been so focused on her uncle that she had never thought about who she had chosen in her scheme. What sorts of attention he could bring with him.

"My last daughter was married off months ago, as were all the rest before her. I haven't seen any of my daughters for a very long time now. What daughter might you be talking about?" he said, round-about.

"Daughter, niece, whichever. The villagers are all talking about a girl who lives here and who was with this man. Don't play with me any longer."

Daryun did not like the turn of the conversation and eyed Narsus with a meaningful look until he understood it's meaning.

"Where are they?" the man next to him said, big and lug with a curly mustache he could not pull off.

"Even the girl will do," someone said with a smile. Shana's frown deepened behind the curtain.

"They left," Erutham said simply. Daryun took that as a hint to start their departure. He signaled the others to head out. Farangis led Arslan away, he looked back worriedly.

"We have to go," Daryun whispered down at Shana under him.

"Yes, you," she hissed back. "Goodbye. I'll take care of my uncle and the guards here."

There was more conversation in the background as they argued. The noise outside growing.

"Shana, there is no time for your childish pride."

"Childish?!"

"We have to--"

"AUGH!" they heard the scream but it was over before they could even turn again. A sound of moist flesh resounded and a second cry followed until a thud stopped all noise.

"Dead in one fell swoop, hah!"

She did not scream. She had never been a screamer or one to make much noise. The loudest she got was the stamp of her feet as she ran to her uncle. Daryun tried to grab her but she was too fast and slipped out of his grip.

She saw her targets and went to work. She gripped the staff of the one nearest her and bashed his face with it. He stumbled back enough that she could slip out his sword from his side and used her upper body to shove the blade into the man's gut. He died much quicker and barely had time to gasp.

"You!" someone screamed. He was her next target.

She pushed and kicked the dead man off the sword and ran at the man coming towards her. She ducked low at the last few seconds and cut at his thigh. He bent down on his knee. The sword plummeted into his neck. A cold glint in Shana's eye when she killed the man. The red of her eye as vibrant as the blood that flowed out. The other men were too busy with their initial kill. Then, shocked by a young girl hacking at their men. Finally, unworried that a ready one of their own could handle her. They were wrong. And three strikes would cost them. Only three left and she was soon accompanied.

Daryun almost left the idiot to her own devices but what was started needed to finish. Defeating these men would buy them time before other soldiers realized they were missing. He rushed in like a storm and efficiently sliced down two of the men in succession. The last man almost escaped out of the pandemonium but Shana was quicker to react. Her focused and bloody eyes the last thing he saw.

\----------------------------------------

Shana was breathing hard at that point and hacking uselessly at the last man. Stabbing him repeatedly with her stolen weapon. The jabs were becoming restless and soon, frenzied, like her breathing, ragged and keening.

He let her do so for a while until the blood starting splashing onto her face. He found the point he needed to intervene.

He knew she wouldn't hear him. When he heard about his uncle, Vahriz, from the enemy campaign he could barely hear much of the conversation past the blood pounding in his head. Words were useless. She needed to come to grips with reality.

The blade's grip was slathered in blood kicked back during her slashes. So when she brought the blade down he timed the moment for him to shove the blade with her motion as far down into the body as he could manage. They hit the floor.

When her rhythm was broken was when Shana snapped out of her daze. The fog cleared in her head. She caught up on her breathing and her eyes focused. 

She noticed Daryun's big hand over the pommel of the sword.

Slowly, almost like a broken thing, she turned to him. "Daryun?"

He eyed her in tender pity then traveled his gaze over the Erutham's body so that she would follow...and speak her last goodbyes.

\-----------------------------------------------

They left a slow fire to build on the gardens before they left. Shana was bitter enough that she wanted none of their food, or goods, or home, left over for the Lisutanians to make use. She also couldn't bear the thought of her uncle's head used as a spectacle. The Lusitanians burned things they did not like but Daryun had no heart to stop her.

She said her last farewells to her only home and family.

\-----------------------------

 

Back in the shadows of the forest, farsangs away from Jahanna, Arslan's party, with the addition of Shana, made camp and readied dinner.

"What am I going to do..." she said in a whisper and cradling a cup in her hands, but not partaking. She had not meant for anyone to answer but someone did.

"I'm so sorry, Shana..." Arslan sat on a stump across from her and tried to convey his condolences with his features.

She sniffed, "Stubborn to the end, I suppose."

"I am glad that you did not share his deep stubbornness," he tried with a smile. "I'm very glad you are still with us."

She looked up then, her eyes brimming with tears and her cheeks soaked already. She sniffed heavily, using all her lungs and muscles to hold back. She wiped what she could in the huddle of her cloak she gathered around herself and lifted her knees so as to hold them. "Mhmm," she said with a shaky voice.

"He was an honorable man," Daryun said, as if that helped, which it didn't.

"I've never known any other world than the one my uncle controlled. Who else is going to hire an assassin ninja."

"Ninja?" Arslan asked, unfamiliar with the odd word.

"My father said they were stealthy men who stole away information in the night from where my mother came from. He'd tell me ghost stories about them."

"We can't guarantee a wage for you, but you are welcome to stay in our company until you figure out what you want to do."

"Don't people have to have needs and wants to figure that out first?" she said, muffled through her legs.

"Well, you want the Lusitanians gone, correct?" Arslan asked again.

"Well...yes." Her eyes grew dark. "I want them all dead and burning in the pits of the afterlife."

"But that won't bring Erutham back, it won't solve anything."

"Well what do you want me to do then!" She buried her face in her knees.

"You never said no to my offer."

She lifted her head to look at him then, bleary eyed from all the crying. 

"You'll drive them out?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"But I don't want anything...everything I wanted is..." she chocked at the last of the words.

"Anything! Give me any demand for your loyalty and I will fulfill it."

She frowned at him, her countenance bothered and unsure. He saw.

"You said you felt useful for the first time when your uncle trained you. But I wish for you to do so much more. You are an amazing woman with amazing skill that anyone would be grateful to have on their side. What do you want that would make you feel good, Shana? What do you want to do with yourself?"

His words were so fanciful and unreal but the conviction in his voice could fool you into thinking him a reasonable human being. She still could not believe the world could change so suddenly after leaving her uncle. This must all be a trick or an illusion, she reasoned. Nothing so good could ever come to Shana. So, honestly, she didn't expect him to say anything to this goad let alone what he did say. 

"If you make it law that a marriage proposal has to be accepted by both the men and women involved." She just said the first thing that came to her, no real thought behind the joking words. "Then I may consider staying in your party." She wasn't taking the conversation seriously, grief still raw. Vagrancy the only thing feasible to her at that moment.

"Of course," Arslan said brightly, without hesitation.

"Huh?" Shana responded back with brilliance.

\-----------------------------------------------

After that brilliant piece of work, Shana sat alone a few feet away from the others. She felt like an outsider...everyone seemed to stalwart and sturdy in their allegiance to Prince Arslan, while she was still...a small village girl with little thought.... Her uncle had always been the one ordering her about and telling her what to do and what chores she had each day. She never had to think much for herself and now... Shana sighed into the hot Parsian air.

Daryun had finished his task and saw Shana where she sat and found this was an opportune moment. Probably the only reprieve they would have before their march to Peshawar. He walked over to her and signaled her closer to the edge of the forest, to finally finish what he had started. Gieve eyed the exchange with a soft prayer to the Goddess Ashi on Daryun's behalf.

"Shana..." he started. She waited patiently. "What were you thinking?"

She raised an eyebrow and wondered what brought about this. What was she thinking when?

"That I should have asked for more of the prince if I had known...he would say yes?" she answered slowly, truthfully.

"No, not--not about right now. At the brothel. What were you thinking would happen when you flaunted yourself to all those men?"

"Were you embarrassed?" she asked, confused where he was going with the conversation. "Do you want me to apologize?"

"No!--Well, many probably were with...the little you wore...That is not my point. You should think harder before you place yourself in such danger. You are now a retainer of the prince."

"I wasn't in any danger," she said with a lilt, a bit offended he thought so weakly of her.

"You were a walking treat for all those soldiers. Any one of them could have attacked you."

"And I would have defended myself."

"You're only a girl--"

"Excuse you! I'm stronger than any man--" she thrusted her arms around Daryun's waist and started to lift him-- "See! No one can--"

"Shana!" He had a grip on her forearms and held his ground to keep her from fully lifting him up. She got an inch or two before he fought back and couldn't lift him anymore.

"Well," she strained, still trying to hold him, her pride at stake. Yet, she soon realized Daryun was stronger than her. She had thought that time in the house she couldn't push him out because of the shock. Her pride hurt but she still had a point. "Anyone but you I can take down! I swear!"

"Shana," he said, softer this time. "What of your uncle? Didn't you fear he'd throw you out for what you had done?"

She didn't hear the kindness there. "He wouldn't have! Besides, I could force my way back in. I'll prove it! Name anyone at camp and I'll best them! You'll see!" she groaned, still trying to pick him off his feet.

"Shana..." he said, tightly but tenderly, if that were possible. Shana flinched but out of confusion rather than fear. The tone in his voice frightened her and she rapidly released and backed away from him. Now was not the time for marriage proposal, she assumed. "Your uncle...I know the wishes he had of you." 

She really didn't like where this was going and was half tempted to run. "But I also know where you stand as well. I will force nothing on you, not ever again," he emphasized strongly. Instead of embarrassment or maidenly blush or even anger, the young woman blinked at him several times, trying to grasp where he was going with this. The urge to escape disappeared. Now curiosity took its place. She would wait, before....

He continued, steadfast and as serious as before, "I do not think union would help in our situation, but I have wronged you, Shana. B-be assured," he was starting to stumble on his speech and his barely noticeable blush on tan skin was now flaring, "I-I will do everything in my power...to...to do right by you. You will never want for anything nor be cast aside. I!" he said overtly loud, making Shana jump, "Daryun, will make sure of that."

She just blinked at him.

"I promise to take care of you...?" he repeated, worried she had not heard or understood for a moment.

"Uh..." she prolonged. "About that..." She smiled mischievously, like a devilish peri. All insult forgotten in favor of the humor of her next chosen words. Daryun perked with an eyebrow raised. "You never actually did anything. Actually, neither of us really did much of anything. So, it's fine."

Daryun's face fell, shocked and utterly in denial after all the energy he spent starting from that incident. "But we were naked...in bed!"

"You fell into the bed and I pulled off all our clothes. We just slept next to each other."

He put up a finger to argue but now that she mentioned it the normal set of...activity involving what they had supposedly done had been very lacking. He never questioned why he felt so clean nor the lack of...blood on the sheets. When he saw they were naked he just assumed and that had been that. They hadn't slept together! he rejoiced internally. He looked like he might cry.

"I'm so sorry! I needed a decoy at the lose of my innocence and you were there. It's why I made sure everyone saw me leave. I never thought you would show up and prove yourself to my uncle. I thought you would think I was a brothel girl!" she clapped her hands together like a prayer and exaggerated a smile for him. If there was any time she was going to curb favor and look cute to him now was that time.

"So...we've done nothing wrong?"

"Well, to a priestess maybe," she thought about Farangis but the stoic woman looked like she could care less. "But no, you're in no moral danger with the gods, sir!"

He stood there, flabbergasted for a good long moment. Shana had worried she had done something wrong. Then, he just laughed hysterically. The others thought Daryun might have finally broken under all the stress and tried to cook dinner faster.


End file.
